Vot roombles down de Bergstrass?
Vot a grash ish in de air!
Mit a desberate gonfusion,
Und a gry of wild tespair,
Das sind gethräsht Franzosen,
Und dose who after flee
Are de terror of Champagner,
Die Uhlan cavallrie.

Boot of all de wild Uhlanen,
Der Breitmann ride de pest;
For he mark de Fräntsch gommanter
Ish most elegandtly tresst.
Und ash he coom down on him,
Dere’s a deat’ look in his eye:
“Gotts! if I carfe dat toorkey,
How I’ll make de stoofin vly!”

Vot for der Coptain Breitmann
Ish shdop in his career?
Vot for he pool his pridle?
Vot for let down his speer?
Vot for his eyes like saucers
Grow pigger, rimmed mit staub?
Vot for his hair, a pristlin,
Lift oop his pickel-haub?

“Ach, de efils dat from efil
Troo a life ish efer grow!
Had I nefer dink I killed you,
Many a man were livin now-
Many a man dat shleeps in cane-brakes,
Many a man py pillow-shore;
For dy morder mate me reckelos,
Und von tead man gries for more!

Der Breitmann lok so earnest,
Long and earnest at his foe,
Ash if seein troo his augen
To de forty years ago.
Mit vot a shmile der Breitmann
Toorned roundt und rode away:
Dat was all his parting greetin
To der Cólonél Français.

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